by T. J. LONG
“Mmmm. You’re so fucking delectable,” he grunts into the storm of hormones that are clouding the room.
His warm, wet mouth envelopes my nipple, and I buck my hips, grinding my wetness against his hardness. I’ve never done anything like this and the sensation is all encompassing. I understand now how people get carried away and have sex because, at this moment, I’d let him have all of me.
Moans escape my mouth, making me dizzy. A tingly sensation starts in my toes and prickles up my body, causing my head to bend backward to rest on the wall. The intense pleasure of him teasing my nipple will have me coming in my panties any moment now, though that’s definitely not a bad thing. My mouth feels dry from moaning a melody of pleasures. My insides are clenching, and I want nothing more than for him to carry me to his room, rip off my clothes, and ravage me like I’ve imagined many nights this past week while touching myself. I feel an orgasm building inside of me, making my body quiver with each lick and nibble he lays on me.
That’s when he stops.
I look down, desperate for him to continue, but he replaces the fabric over my chest and smirks at me while I furrow my brow. Can guys not tell from sounds when a girl is about to come? My dry throat tells me I was definitely being vocal with my admiration of what he was doing.
“More,” I say in mock cry as I try to grind my hips into him to tempt him for more. I know it’s a dangerous game to play, but I am on the verge of coming and I’m desperate. But it doesn’t work; his willpower is strong, and instead of playing along with me, he puts me down and adjusts his hard cock. I lick my lips. It’s so big it looks like he actually pitched a tent in his pants.
“We have to stop.” He grabs me and pulls me to him, resting his chin on my head.
I wrap my arms around his waist, holding him close. “Why?”
He hesitates before he speaks. “Don’t be mad, but I heard your conversation the day you and Ann stopped by.”
I pull away, eyes wide, mouth open. “What?” I want to make sure we are talking about the same thing, so I say nothing, instead giving him a look that is semi-panicked.
“I wasn’t spying.” He holds up his hands. “I heard what I’m assuming was the tail end of the conversation.”
“Okay… So you stopped because you don't want to have sex with me?” I ask, confused and a bit hurt. It’s like Tristan all over again.
He laughs and pulls me back to him. “That’s a ridiculous thought. I stopped because I want to have sex, and if we do that, I want it to be further down the road.” He kisses me on the mouth, a peck. “There’s no rush,” he says sweetly into my hair.
“Well, but what if I want to do it?”
He holds both of my shoulders and looks into my eyes, a genuine look on his face. “I assume you held out for the right person. Let’s make sure it’s me. I don’t want you to have any regrets when it happens.”
I can’t imagine what could happen that would make me feel differently about him, make me regret giving myself completely to him. I know he’s looking out for me, and I appreciate that. But, honestly, he’s driving my hormones crazy. I don’t know how much longer I can wait.
He kisses me tenderly as we stand in the doorway. As much as I’d like to stay, he has to work in the morning and I have dreaded school. Oh boy, am I looking forward to that. Not.
Joshua
Damn, I think, scraping a hand down my jaw as I shut the door behind her, that was hot. It was hard to resist taking her to my room, laying her hot body on my bed, and giving her all the pleasures I know how to give.
Once I had a look at her perky tits in that tank and tasted her sweet skin I knew I had to stop before it went any further. I want her, bad. But I’m also trying my damndest to be a good guy. I have real feelings for this girl. I don’t want to move too fast.
I stand by the backdoor, debating if I should jerk off or repress the hunger. The image of Taylor against the wall with her mouth open in pleasure keeps replaying in my mind, but I know I should hit the hay since I have to be up for work in six hours. I decide, reluctantly, on a cold shower and then to head to bed. Thoughts of Taylor lull me to sleep.
My alarm jolts me awake and I know as soon as it beeps that I definitely didn’t get enough sleep. I get up quickly and head to the shower. A cold spray of water is all I need to get my tired ass in gear.
After my quick spritz, I get dressed in a pair of dark grey slacks and a white button down, sleeves cuffed. I style my hair and give myself a once over and then a twice over in the mirror before I head downstairs. I’m too anxious to eat, but I brew a huge cup of coffee that I’m hoping makes me feel more alive. Moments later, after I’ve packed my lunch and gathered my belongings, I head for the door.
On the drive to the school, I mentally go over all of the techniques I was taught in school about teaching. On paper I’ve completed everything, the course work, the teacher preparation program. But I’m about to get a real taste of what being a teacher and being the head of a class is really like, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have any nerves. I've been busting my ass the past few weeks to make sure I have everything perfect: the course work, the syllabus, and the welcome packets. I want to make a good first impression, not just for the students but for Uncle Bill as well.
Nerves aren’t typical for me. Being the leader of builds for the foundation meant I was in uncomfortable situations a lot. All of those experiences made me the man I am today. When you have people depending on you to get things done and are working on a tight timeline, you have to be consistent and driven. It’s difficult work. It’s strenuous labor. You're not in great conditions, and you never have a nice place to lay your head at the end of a hard day.
Then there are the other aspects of the job besides the hard labor and staff management I had to deal with, like theft of materials and working around red tape thrown up by corrupt governments. You never knew what you'd be up against. These situations instilled a sense of confidence in me, so the fact that I feel nervous now is amusing.
When I pull into the parking lot, it’s already full with my other colleagues’ cars. Fear that I may be late starts to form in my stomach. I furrow my brow as I gaze around the packed lot. I look at the car's dash and see I’m right on time. Hmm, a bunch of overachievers, I suppose. I laugh as I throw my bag over my shoulder and grab my travel mug full of black coffee. As I pass my colleagues, I smile and wave at them, but they don’t seem keen on my friendliness. I barely get a head nod.
I’m quickly realizing that this place is full of snooty people. It’s like being at the hotel during Mom’s fundraisers. All rich, entitled people with those damn smug, stuck-up faces. How Uncle Bill manages these people and is still sane is a wonder. I guess that’s why he bought the beach house, so he could get away and relax on the weekends.
I find my room and start getting stuff coordinated. An hour goes by. I glance around the room to make sure everything is in its appropriate place. I’ve placed welcome packets on the desks so I can learn about each student. I printed out pictures from my travels and posted them with a synopsis of what we did in each location around the room to help inspire them toward community service. I’ve even tacked my favorite literature quotes to the wall, and made a book box at the back of the room for students to grab and read from whenever they have free time, making the room feel more alive. The room was so bland before. I think I did a damn good job making it feel like my space.
Dr. Warren said the last teacher who had this room chose not to decorate it and never made any personal relationships with the kids. My hope is that I will be a mentor to at least a few of them. I’m definitely the youngest teacher here. I’m hopeful that works in my favor.
I keep my door closed until it’s time for class to start. I hear a few kids walk past, chattering loudly. I pull my phone from my pocket to see how many more minutes I have until I open the door into my new life, literally and figuratively.
Man, this is surreal, I think. I’ve had my teaching degree for
years but never used it. I was so busy helping with the foundation, and that was rewarding work, but I’m ready for this new chapter. Already I have Taylor, which has been an unexpected but nice surprise. If this job goes as well as my relationship, I can see myself here for a very long time.
The bell rings and I hear a stampede of feet moving through the hallway. I open the door and walk back to the front of my desk, leaning against the edge with my arms crossed over my chest. The nerves I felt earlier have passed, thankfully. Now all that's left is a feeling of gratitude for the opportunity that Uncle Bill has provided me.
I am wondering if I’ll make lasting bonds with any kids when my first ever student walks in. She’s a redheaded girl with braces. She eyes me and stops in her tracks, tilting her head and staring at me with her lips parted. Her face blushes a scarlet hue, and she bites her bottom lip before taking another step forward. I don’t know if I should be flattered or feel weird that she is taken aback by my presence.
“Hi there, I’m Mr. Bailey, the new literature teacher. What’s your name?” I have a list of my students, but I haven’t looked too closely at their names. I’ll learn them better from seeing their faces, not from reading them off of a sheet.
She giggles and says, “Molly.”
I bring my hand up in a wave. “Nice to meet you, Molly. Please take a seat wherever you’d like. I won’t be assigning seats.”
She picks a seat in the front row but to the far left of the room.
More students make their way in and I continue to receive the occasional odd look. I count how many students are seated and know I have four more that are yet to come. I decide to hold off on introducing myself until all of the students are present, so I need only introduce myself once more.
“Wow, who's the hot new teacher?” I hear one girl say to no one in particular.
I look up to find a student who is most definitely breaking the dress code with her way too short skirt, but since it’s the first day and I'm the new guy, I decide to let it slide and not ruffle feathers so early on.
A guy walks in with two girls strapped to his sides. “Carina and Regina, I’ll see you two lovely ladies tonight.” They kiss him on his cheeks in unison.
I am taken aback. The girls on his arms look like actual escorts. I look down and stifle a laugh, shaking my head in disbelief, knowing I’m definitely not in Philly anymore.
Smile still on my face, I say, “Ladies, if you’re not in my class, please leave.”
The blonde-haired boy gives me an evil eye in response, and right then, I know I’ll have a problem with him. I was already warned by Dr. Warren that some students here were, well, assholes.
“Who are you?” he says, sounding annoyed, while he finds a seat in the back of the room.
With the class full enough, I decide it’s time to introduce myself. I walk to the blackboard. “I’m,” I begin to write my name in cursive, “Mr. Bailey.” I turn to face the classroom. “Your new Literature teacher.” In my periphery, I notice a person standing in the doorway. “Excuse me, you by the door, if you belong in this classroom, then please come in and find a seat.”
The door closes, and when the girl turns and looks in my direction, her feet abruptly stop, making a squeaking noise and causing my eyes to go to her. I take in the figure. Her eyes. Her mouth.
I breath in so hard from shock that I choke on my spit. I start coughing like I’m hacking up a hairball. One hand goes to my chest while the other hand clamps my desk for stability.
Molly, the redhead from earlier, steps to my side. “Mr. Bailey, are you okay?”
I nod my head through coughs as I reach for my coffee cup, turning my back to the class. My eyes squeeze shut as the awareness of who just entered my room takes over my body. It causes my heart to accelerate and my body instantly goes clammy.
After a few sips, I turn back to see if the amber eyes that I saw a moment ago are still there. Maybe it was just a student that looked similar to Taylor. I turn and find her still standing in the same spot. Her eyes are just as big and shocked as mine.
Fuck me. I look down, away from her bewildered gaze, hoping no one notices how my eyes keep going to her. I need to pull it together. All the students are looking at me.
Taylor has enough sense to take a seat, though she takes a seat in the front of the room. She sits before me, a student at this school, and I just had her fucking tits in my mouth last night.
My fingers grasp the ledge of my desk as I try my best to regain my composure. “Excuse me.” I clear my throat. “As I was saying, I am the new literature teacher, Mr. Bailey. If you look at your desks, you will see a worksheet that will help me get to know you all a bit better.” I take a look at Taylor; then I shift my eyes quickly to the floor, then back to Taylor, and then to the other students.
I thought I knew a lot about Taylor, like the taste of her lips, what her bare ass looked like, and how her legs felt wrapped around my waist.
Shit.
I bring my hand to my forehead and pretend to scratch it. I look through my fingers, incognito, to check on Taylor and see how she’s doing. My millisecond glances earlier didn’t tell me much and I was too scared to openly look at her for fear that my bulging eyes would give me away. Judging by the look on her face, this is clearly a surprise to both of us.
“I’d like you to fill out the worksheet and then return it to my desk. Today will just be about getting to know each other.” A girl raises her hand, and I’m grateful for the distraction. “Yes?”
“I was thinking it would be great if we could go around the class and tell you our name and age. Then maybe you could do, like, questions and answers with us. You know, so we can get to know you better.” She smirks and winks at me.
After everything that’s come to light this morning, I couldn’t care less about the damn wink. I’m so deep in shit right now. I’ve unknowingly fallen for my student. That’s the first no no as a teacher.
I blink, realizing I haven’t answered the student’s question. I quickly respond with, “Sure, that sounds like a great idea. We will do questions and answers in,” I look at my watch, “fifteen minutes. For now, work on your papers.”
I walk to my desk and pretend to busy myself, but really, I’m internally freaking out. I try to run through every memory where Taylor may have mentioned her age. Ann did say it was their senior year; I assumed she meant college, not high school, damnit. I’m an idiot. I should never have assumed.
Papers begin to pile up on my desk as students complete and turn them in.
Taylor gets up from her seat and places her paper on my desk. There’s a note folded on top and I see it as another student makes her way up. I grab it without anyone noticing and drop it in my lap, opening it under the desk. There are five words written.
You’re my teacher. What now?
I shake my head. I have no clue. My hand goes to my head as another realization dawns on me. I slowly rub down my face. “Fuck, she’s underage,” I whisper to myself.
I had underage tits in my mouth.
I feel the corners of my mouth dropping and I want to facepalm myself from the guilt and embarrassment I feel for falling for a teenager. What the hell was I thinking? How did I not know?
I desperately try to reign in my emotions and neutralize my facial expressions, knowing I can’t let my class know how quickly I am spiraling out of control. I have to find my professionalism and get my act together, quick.
After the last paper has landed on my desk, I shuffle them and set them to the side. I stand and make my way to the front of the room. “Molly, why don’t we start with you?” I say, nodding my head toward her.
Her cheeks flush as she stands. Hesitantly, she starts. “Hi, I’m Molly. I’m seventeen, and I enjoy ballet and… musicals.”
I hear snickers from a few boys in the back of the room. It's easy to see she isn’t in the “popular” group by the way the students are reacting to her.
I smile at her. “Thank you, Molly. Surprisin
gly enough, I was in the musical George M! in high school. Though, not a main part.” I laugh. She looks on surprised, her eyes looking at me in admiration. Then she flushes more and takes her seat.
After we have gone down the line. The blonde boy with the escorts and attitude is next.
“Okay, and what about you? Who are you, and what do you like?”
I notice in my peripheral Taylor turning in her seat to look at the guy who is about to speak.
My brow furrows and I listen with curiosity as he speaks.
“I’m Tristan.” My face falls as I remember Taylor telling me her ex boyfriend was named Tristan and that he cheated on her. Damn fool. “I’m seventeen, and I’m the captain of the baseball team.” He smirks while a majority of the class hoots at him in admiration.
“Awesome. Thank you, Tristan.”
The girl that called me hot and winked is up. “I’m Jessica, and I’ll be legal in three months. Oh, and my hobbies include… contact sports.” She smirks as she sends another wink my way.
A boy in the back of the room yells, “Yeah, you love contact sports!” Then I hear a few boys moaning, simulating sex noises. My head shakes. I look at Jessica and she smiles, not caring about the boys’ comments. I look down, pursing my lips and go to the next student.
By the time I get to Taylor, I’m expecting her to say she’s also seventeen. I am pleasantly surprised to hear that she’s eighteen. I breathe out a sigh of relief and hope no one caught it. I feel better that she’s of age. But she’s still a student, and that’s not allowed. There's no way around it.
“So how old are you?” one guy says.
“I’m twenty six.” I’m trying my best to seem normal, but it's hard after the shock of finding out the person I felt an instant connection to is also the one person I can never be with, my student.